Page 42 of Crownless Heirs

Maelan only nodded, and they continued walking until they reached Sorcha’s doorway. Both stopped in their tracks, staring.

20

The betrayal

The moment they crossed through the mist, Riona shoved Vaelric back; ragged breaths trembled from her lips, the vision of Sorcha bleeding seared into her mind.

“What did you do?” she screamed.

Vaelric took a slow breath out and rolled his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just been sliced open and nearly killed.

He glanced at her, utterly unbothered. “Handled the situation, thanks though for caring.”

Riona’s hands curled into fists. “You stabbed her. You killed her!” She shoved again, this time harder, and he stumbled back.

Vaelric tilted his head, eyes flickering with annoyance. “She tried to kill me too! I’m holding my insides in, Riona.” Blood wept from his lips, and he coughed.

Riona stepped inches from his face, close enough to see the blood on his blade. Sorcha’s blood. She began to shake, her fists turning white, the world closing in as tunnel vision took over.

“You killed her.” She spat.

“Don’t be like this. I had no choice.” He spoke with a tinge of irritation.

Riona planted her foot, swung her arm back and smacked him across the face so hard her palm stung and blood stained her hand.

He then with his thumb wiped away the blood. “She’ll live.” His gaze met hers. “The blade hit armor. She’s not dead yet.”

A dull roar filled Riona’s ears. She didn’t know if it was relief or anger as the roar grew louder. Vaelric stepped past her, limping toward the massive castle gates ahead; blood trailed after him. She watched as his silhouette faded into the mist, people yelling and rushing towards him.

Riona shook her head, placing her hands at her sides. With a long sigh, she collapsed into the grass and tilted her face to the sunlight. She lay surrounded by flowers of every shade and shape. Some she knew by name, others she didn’t, but she loved the ones that glowed after dark. Their petals shimmered like stained glass, some like lilies, though their glow shifted from deep marine to soft amaranth and everything in between. The scent of summer lingered in the air, a mix of citrus and pine.

“What do you think you are doing?” a voice snapped.

Riona cracked open one eye to find the gardener standing over her, his figure blotting out the sun.

“I am trying to relax, Quinn,” she said, and closed her eyes again.

“You are lying in the middle of my roses, Riona,” Quinn replied, clearly annoyed. “In a few short weeks, you’ve become quite the nuisance.”

“Can I please just lie here, Quinn?” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

He grumbled something under his breath as his shadow disappeared. The sun returned to her skin, and she smiled to herself. The moment was brief.

Sorcha’s face flashed in her mind. The way the light had drained from her eyes, how pale she had gone, blood spilling from the open wound.

Then came Vaelric’s smile. That sick satisfaction as he watched Sorcha fade. It made Riona’s stomach turn until she couldn’t sit still.

She pushed upright, arms wrapped around herself. A sudden cold had crept over the field, and the grass no longer felt soft beneath her. Everything felt wrong.

Tears welled up and spilled over before she could stop them. Her vision blurred. It was as if something inside her had snapped. She rocked gently, unable to stop the sting behind her eyes. The sobs came silent but full, soaking her sleeves and staining the ground beneath her.

Kyron’s voice echoed in her mind. Riona. The sound of it was raw: his confusion, his pain, the edge in his tone. It reminded her of the moment she lost Emry.

She let herself fall back again, lying in the grass, letting the emotions run until nothing was left but the ache.

Her stomach growled, a twist of pain in her gut. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even thought about food. She rubbed at the hollow feeling under her ribs. The tears had dried, leaving her skin cracked and tight.

When she finally stood, dusk had settled. The light was low and golden, brushing the marble in the distance. The marbled castle stood carved into the cliff-side, the sound of the ocean crashing into the bluffs below, its towers rising high above the gardens. Colored crystal panes glowed in the fading sun, casting streaks of amber and rose across the ground. The gold trim glittered faintly, as if it were holding on to the last light of day.